


I'm a Fool To Want You

by Gemmiel



Series: Holding On [10]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Cheating, Fist Fight, Guilt, M/M, bj/hawkeye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmiel/pseuds/Gemmiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jealousy, a fist fight, and a date... just another day for Hawkeye and BJ at the 4077th.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm a Fool To Want You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new entry in this series. I think the next story will be the last one.
> 
> The title is from a 1951 Frank Sinatra song.

"You boys need to work this out."

Hawkeye and BJ sit stiffly in Colonel Potter's office, as far away from one another as humanly possible. BJ thinks Hawkeye looks like a sullen schoolboy who was caught in a prank, and he imagines he himself looks pretty much the same. The violent surge of rage he felt toward his best friend moments ago has faded, but anger is still simmering inside him. He tries to swallow it down, and speaks as calmly as he can.

"We're fine, Colonel," he says, and Potter fixes him with an incredulous glare.

" _Fine,_ " he echoes, with all the sarcastic edge a man acquires after three wars and years of command. "Oh, you're just fine and dandy, Hunnicutt. _Sure_ you are. Which is why you and Pierce were rolling around on the floor of the mess tent, trying to whale the tarnation out of each other."

"He took the last scoop of mashed potatoes," Hawkeye complains, as if that's a perfectly rational explanation for the homicidal urges he displayed ten minutes ago.

"You don't even _like_ mashed potatoes!" the colonel roars.

Hawkeye pouts, actually _pouts_ , managing to look like a ten-year-old despite his six-foot-plus height, and doesn't answer.

Potter takes a deep breath, obviously getting himself under control. "Look, boys," he says in a more moderate tone. "I can't have my surgeons busting up their knuckles in fist fights. Neither of you is a damn bit of good to the Army without your hands. And besides, you two idiots may not realize this, but you're kinda the heart and soul of this outfit. When you two don't get along, no one gets along. So I want you to get along." His voice lifts to another roar. " _And that's an order!_ "

"He started it," BJ says, and only after the words leave his mouth does he realize how juvenile he sounds. God, they've _both_ regressed to ten-year-olds. 

Potter studies the two of them, and then rises to his feet. "Look, boys," he says, more gently. "I don't know what's gotten into the two of you, but I do know this is about a whole lot more than who got the last of the mashed potatoes. Something's been simmerin' between the two of you for a while, and for the good of the outfit, you gotta work it out. Understand me?"

Hawkeye glares at BJ, and BJ glares back. Potter sighs and leans forward, planting his hands on his desk. He suddenly looks much taller. " _Understand_ me?"

"Yeah," Hawkeye says, reluctantly. "Okay. We'll try, Colonel."

Potter's steel gimlet gaze moves to BJ, who swallows hard.

"Yes, sir," he says. "We understand."

*****

It all started with a letter.

BJ couldn't help writing it. He really couldn't. He's fallen into the habit of writing Peggy whenever he's worried or distressed or scared. Even when he knows he'll never send it, he writes one to help him get his scattered thoughts together.

And this morning, his thoughts were badly scattered. Because the night before, he and Hawkeye had--

He still can't think about what Hawkeye did to him without blushing. The thing is, they were both smashed as hell last night. That had been the catalyst for what happened. They'd been drunk, and they'd given into this-- this _attraction_ between them, in a way that never would have happened if they'd been sober.

At least, he _thinks_ it wouldn't have happened if they'd been sober. But maybe he's kidding himself. 

Anyway, drunk though he'd been, he can remember every instant of their encounter with a diamond-perfect clarity that puts film to shame. Hawkeye had knelt between his parted thighs and unzipped his pants and tugged down his shorts, and...

Well. What bothers BJ the most is that he didn't even _try_ to stop Hawkeye. All he'd done was tangle his fingers in the dark mussed hair, holding on for dear life, and allowed Hawkeye to do whatever he wanted. Hell, he'd practically begged for more. He'd surrendered to the other man, more completely than he'd ever surrendered to anyone. And it had felt _incredible._ He'd never-- not ever-- not with _anyone--_

Not even with Peggy.

And that's the root of the problem, right there. He's shared something with Hawkeye that's so intimate he's never even shared it with his wife. And that makes his insides squirm with guilt.

This morning--the morning after--Hawkeye strode into the Swamp after his rounds in Post-Op and saw BJ sitting on his cot, scribbling away at yet another letter, and his eyes went cold and hard. As if there was something wrong with a guy writing his wife. Like it wasn't something BJ did practically every day.

Hawkeye hadn't said a damn thing. He'd just turned around and stalked out again, and the next time BJ had happened to run into him, in the mess tent at lunchtime, he'd been flirting outrageously with Bigelow and Able and every other nurse who happened to be there. Even Kellye, and he knew for a fact that Hawkeye had never so much as noticed Kellye's existence before today.

When Hawk had asked Bigelow out to the movies tonight, right in front of his tentmate, something had snapped inside BJ. He'd reached right over Hawkeye's empty tray and swiped the last bit of mashed potatoes from Igor, then shoved Hawk in the shoulder to get him moving-- because the idiot was just standing there flirting, and some people in the mess line were _hungry,_ thank you very much.

The next thing he knew, the two of them were sprawled in a violent tangle on the floor, trying very sincerely to murder each other.

BJ is stretched out on his cot now in the empty Swamp, staring up at the canvas ceiling and doing his best to understand what happened, what on earth could possibly have led up to him and his best friend trying to beat each other's brains out. He remembers being angry with Hawkeye, unreasonably so. Flirting is what Hawkeye does, after all. BJ's seen him flirt with dozens of women, and it's never irritated him before. So clearly it wasn't the flirting that was the problem. It was just that Hawkeye had been holding up the line, in what BJ thinks was a deliberate attempt to annoy him.

He remembers the red rage that surged through him when Hawkeye asked Bigelow out, and he knows he's lying to himself.

Fine. So he's jealous. Maybe that's not all that surprising, because going to the movies with Hawkeye is one of the things he most looks forward to. Once they even snuggled up together under an old olive-drab blanket to watch-- but only because it had been really, really cold. It's not like they go on dates together. It's not like they ever could.

And maybe, he thinks slowly, that's the heart of the issue, right there. Because Hawkeye can flirt with women, kiss women in public, be seen coming out of the supply tent with a woman, and no one will think twice about it. But if anyone ever guesses what BJ and Hawkeye did together last night--

 _It's not **fair,**_ he thinks, anger stirring within him. Hawkeye means so damn much to him, and yet he can't ever acknowledge it, can't ever express it publicly. Even if he were to leave Peggy-- and that thought makes him very uncomfortable, so he quickly revises it in his head-- even if he weren't married, Hawkeye still couldn't be an option for him. He can't have Hawkeye, not really, not ever.

And yet he wants Hawkeye, very, very badly.

He thinks bitterly that he's a fool.

He puts an arm over his eyes, and heaves a deep sigh. A moment or two later, the door creaks open. He doesn't have to open his eyes to know it's Hawkeye. He knows the sound of his tentmate's footsteps now, the pattern of his breathing. He suspects he'll never forget, no matter how many years pass.

The nearest cot creaks as Hawkeye sits down on it. There is a moment of silence, and then, tentatively, Hawkeye says, "Beej?"

"Yeah?"

"Look. About last night. I'm sorry."

BJ moves his arm and looks at Hawkeye, who's staring at him, all tired eyes and rumpled uniform and uncombed hair. There's a reddish bruise darkening on one cheekbone, courtesy of BJ's fist, and his shoulders are slumped. He looks like BJ feels-- kind of a mess. Like he might be falling apart inside, and trying to hide it by ferocious nurse-flirting and too much work and unwarranted aggression over a spoonful of mashed potatoes. 

"Are you really sorry?" he says at last, genuinely curious.

"Um." Hawkeye looks like he's thinking it over. "Not about what we did. But, uh, the circumstances. I mean, you were drunk. I shouldn't have taken advantage--"

"You were drunk too, Hawk."

"Yeah. I was. But I knew what I was doing, Beej. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Only... I'd want you to want to do it, too."

BJ thinks about that. "I knew what I was doing too," he says at last. "And I did want to do it." 

"Oh." Hawkeye looks like some of the weight on his shoulders has lifted. His expression brightens. "I figured-- when I saw you writing to Peggy--"

"Yeah. I mean, I felt guilty. Of course I did. I'm a married man, Hawk, and up till now I've always been... faithful. Loyal. I'm not supposed to want-- but I do. I really do, damn it. I wasn't writing to Peggy, not really-- I can't tell her about any of this, you know? I was just writing about what happened because I was trying to... to figure things out. That's all."

"Oh," Hawk says again, looking sheepish. "I guess I was, um, sort of jealous. I mean, you have Peggy-- and after last night-- I got to wondering if you were thinking about her when we--"

"I wasn't thinking about anyone but you," BJ answers, and the words are so true they almost hurt. For a few moments last night, Hawkeye had been his entire world. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Hawk. I love her. But I think maybe I..." He chokes on more truth, the words _I love you too,_ and falls silent. He's only known Hawkeye for a month and a half, after all. It's way too soon to say those words, even if Hawk weren't a guy. At last he manages to say, "You mean a lot to me, too."

He's a fool to want Hawkeye this much, and he knows it. But he just can't help himself. He loves Peggy, he really does. But with Hawkeye... it's different somehow. Hawk held his head while he threw up, the very first day they met. Hawkeye holds him when he weeps over the loss of a patient, understanding his grief in a way Peggy never could. The two of them have been through sniper attacks and shelling and thirty-six-hour sessions in the OR... together. Always together. Here in Korea, Hawkeye is everything that matters to him.

There's a long moment of silence. At last Hawkeye blurts out, "I don't really want to go to the movies with Bigelow. I'd rather go with you, same as always."

BJ grins, and waggles an eyebrow at him. "You asking me out, Hawk?"

Hawkeye doesn't smile back. He looks much more serious than usual, as if this is too important a matter to be glossed over by his customary jokes. "It's not a lot," he says. "I mean, you and I can't ever-- it's complicated, you know?"

BJ understands what Hawkeye is saying, that he can't offer BJ much. All they can ever hope to share is stolen kisses where no one can see, and quick breathless moments in the supply tent, and a shoulder to cry on every now and again. It's not much, but it's all they can have, so it'll have to be enough.

"Yeah. And I get it's not forever, too. I mean, I'm married, and you--" He refrains from making the observation that Hawkeye isn't a _forever_ kind of guy. He says instead, "When the war's over, I'll go home to Mill Valley and you'll go back to Crabapple Cove, and that'll be that. I get it, Hawk. But while we're here..."

"It's something, at least." Hawkeye brightens a little. "And it's probably better than trying to kill each other."

BJ feels a smile tugging at his own mouth, which strikes him as odd. Now that he's decided to really do this, to stop pretending that he's not head over heels for Hawkeye, guilt should be weighing on him like a stone, but instead he feels... relieved, somehow. He's still lying to Peggy, but at least he's not lying to himself anymore.

It's a start.

"So," he says. "Movie tonight?"

"Dinner and a movie," Hawkeye says. "And I'll even let you have all the mashed potatoes."

"Yeah... hey, listen, about that, Hawk..."

"Forget it. What's a little attempted homicide between friends?" Hawkeye flashes his wide, white grin, and throws himself down on his own cot, all ungainly limbs and awkward angles and too-long legs. BJ looks over at him, and can't help grinning back.

Hawkeye Pierce is like no one else he's ever known. He's a sloppy, unlaundered, uncombed mess of a guy. His nose is too big, his voice is too loud, and his laugh is obnoxious. He's annoying and juvenile and sometimes outright childish.

And BJ loves him so much it makes his chest ache.


End file.
